


let my soul fall into you

by plinys



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9467747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plinys/pseuds/plinys
Summary: Five times Mick almost said "I love you" and then one time he finally was able to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> because i had a lot more sinful idea for this ship, but my first fic for a new ship can't be pure sin, so i figured, let's do some five times angst to try the ship out

1

“What’s this,” the words are rough, mean - he’s meant to be mean, that’s the only way to really survive juvie. Being soft, being kind, ends with you getting jumped by whatever gang is currently running the rec areas. 

The kid in front of him - Lenny Snart - is that sort of soft. 

The type who is quick to pay their debts, but still lingers afterwards. Lingering in Mick’s space constantly, to the point where he almost wants to push the kid away. There’s no way he hasn’t heard the rumors by now. Everyone’s always whispering them. 

Mick Rory, burnt his family alive. 

They don’t tell the whole story. That it was an accident. That he just got caught up in it all. 

They certainly don’t talk about what comes after, the blurry memories that aren’t quite right in stuck there in his head. The ones they say never really happened, vision from the flames or - a blonde girl with terrible bangs, a country house, a fuck ton of babies and the man that had sounded just like his father except he looked like - 

“A lighter.”

Lenny’s voice draws him back out of his memories. 

“You said before that it helps with the nightmares, being able to have a fire, and I figured,” he shrugs. “I don’t like to owe people.” 

As far as Mick was concerned they were even as of two days back when Lenny had given Mick his tater tots during lunch. He doesn’t tell Lenny that.

Instead he flicks the lighter, watching the flame flicker up before his eyes. He’d needed this. Needed it more than he could ever say, more than he could explain to the doctors. It fueled something inside of him, a need, a desperate pull that he could not contain.

For the first time since he ended up here he felt like he could truly breathe again. 

He does that now, sucking in a big gasp of air, and then another one. 

“Just keep it away from where the guards can see,” Lenny says. He’s been talking for a bit now, Mick thinks, but only now do the words seem to penetrate into his mind. Stick there latching onto something, anchoring him back in the present. 

It takes too much will power for him to extinguish the flame, and slip the lighter into his pocket, but he eventually does.

He wants to say something. 

 

To express his thanks, because if this is what telling some bullies to back off got him, Mick would do it again and again. He must convey that in his eyes, because Lenny shrugs his shoulders a bit, trying to put on a look of casual indifference that he hasn’t quite mastered yet. 

“So, we’re even now. Got it?” 

“That mean you’re gonna stop hanging around with me, kid?” 

Lenny wrinkles his nose at the nickname, before saying, “I wouldn’t go that far just yet.” 

  
  


2

They had said they would find each other when they both got out but it’d been a process. 

Mick had been shuffled to one last foster home, and Lenny was technically still just a kid and all his plans to make contact with Lenny when he was back in the world again had been put on hold. 

Until fate had a way of intervening. 

(He still wakes up from dreams from time to time and hears that voice, saying “ _ You better not drop my future criminal partner” _ .)

He’s hired for a crew because he’s big and intimidating and there’s a chance that they might need fire power and -

And Lenny’s there.

He’s older now, finally grown into a proper height, with dark circles under his eyes and hands that fidget just a bit too much before he shoves them into the pockets of his jeans. 

But he’s unmistakable.

When the job goes sideways, as jobs have a habit of going, it’s Lenny who grabs onto his arm tugging him away from the rest of the team, to a safehouse that’s more abandoned warehouse than  _ house  _ house but Mick isn’t complaining. 

After that it becomes a rhythm, a thing.

Mick’s not going to question it, because it’s natural. They slot into place like they always should have, moving around each other with practiced movements that didn’t come from just sharing a cell at juvie, but came from somewhere deep inside of each of them, somewhere that they belonged. 

He doesn’t realize how much of a  _ thing  _ this is until they’re maybe two months into this partnership. Into Mick basically living in Len’s safe house. Cooking their meals, buying the beer Len’s still not old enough to get for himself, talking about their plans to steal the entire world. 

So when Len asks, “How good are you with kids?” 

Mick doesn’t even think twice before answering. “I had little siblings.” 

No mention of how they died. Or whose fault that was. 

Not when Len breathes a sigh of relief and continues talking, rushed and not as sure of himself as he usually is. “You know how my dad’s a piece of shit-” 

And oh how does Mick know. 

“-Well, he’s out of town on a  _ thing  _ and just left Lisa behind and she’s my baby sister. I usually would go stay with her at the house until things are safe but-”

Len had already told him about the nightmares he had about that house, about everything that had happened within those walls, how he never felt safe in there.

No, Mick wasn’t going to let that happen. 

“The baby sister that you’ve told me all about,” Mick teases, because the first time he’d heard about Lisa had been back at juvie, “The one I’ve been dying to meet?” 

He must have said the right words because Len lights up, a smile - Mick didn’t even know those could exist anymore, not for people like them. 

“That’s the one.” 

  
  


3

They have sex, because it was inevitable.

Because Mick swings both ways and he’s pretty sure Len does too.

Because they’ve been living together off and on for years, working together just as long.

Because nobody knows Mick like Len does. 

He’d like to say that it was an experience, that it transcended anything and everything he has ever felt and will ever feel again, but it’s just sex - incredibly wonderful, ten times more satisfying that jerking off in the shower and biting down on a moan shaped like Len’s name - but still just sex.

What in the grand scheme of thing could amount to a one night stand, mutual stress relief.

The sort of stuff that happened in prison cells.

The sort of thing that would surely happen the next time that they’re in there, and Mick could only hope that that wouldn’t be the next time, because he needed more of this. Almost like how he needed the fire which ran through his very veins. 

He wants to tell Len what he’s feeling, to try and put it into words.

Not how great the sex was. 

But how he wants to do it again, and so much more than that.

How he wants to slot their lips together, casually, in the kitchen while the sun rises behind them, with no real heat.

How he wants to memorize every freckle and scar on Len’s body.

How he just might be in love with his best friend but now is not the moment.

In the end, he doesn’t get a chance to say anything. Len rolls off the bed rather than basking in the afterglow, and Mick watches from the bed as he moves around the room, causally gathering up the clothing they had left in their wake and carefully putting himself back together again. 

“I lost a button,” Len says, in the middle of trying to button up his shirt, his fingers freezing over the empty spot where it used to be, before he looks up. When their eyes meet, Mick sees the teasing accusation lingering in those eyes.

All he manages to offer is a mocking, “Sorry.”

  
  


4

It’s all a blur.

The fire. The fire that had burned too bright. 

Reminding him of a house so long ago that it doesn’t even seem real anymore. 

But only there in flashes.

This time it wasn’t the ship, or the girl, or the babies that haunted his visions in the flame.

No.

It was a ambulance, held up by a man whose hands shake too much around his gun (hands that haven’t shaken like this since he was fourteen years old).

It was his name called over and over again and endless echo such that he forgets his name (he’s Mick, he’ll need to remember that later, but he’s not sure why. 

It was those words spoken for the first time in a rush shoved between his name again, and an apology. ( _ I love you _ .  _ Please come back to me _ .)

When he wakes up days later in a hospital, handcuffed to the railings, he can’t figure out if their memories or fire visions again. 

It’s easier to dismiss them.

If Len had really loved him as his dreams insisted, he wouldn’t have been left behind. 

  
  


5

At least this time they’re not hitting each other. 

Though Mick knows words can be just as cruel, especially when Leonard Snart is the one dealing them out. Harsh still even now.

Betraying the team.

Being left for dead.

Becoming a tool for the time masters.

None of it matters in this moment, in comparison to seeing the pain on Snart’s features. Mick’s not even sure of all the words he’s saying at this point. They’re sticking somewhere in there, sure to come up later, in his worst nightmares.

Mick can never stay safe of the nightmares anymore.

“-You said it was your hate for me that kept you sane but-”

It wasn’t hate.

Well, okay, part of it was, Mick knows that and sometimes he still feels that but it was also something else, so much more. 

He should have told him he loved him sooner, years ago, when they had the proper chances. Here and now it won’t make any difference.

Instead he snaps, “What do you want, Snart, an apology?”

“I want you ba-”

Gideon’s announcement cuts their argument off, “We’re approaching the Vanishing Point.” 

Mick let’s the heat leave him, or at least tries to, pushes all the fight away. Compartmentalizes, like he was trained to d.. Tearing his gaze away from Snart, from the bruise that still lingers there slightly on his cheek. The bruise that Mick put there. 

They’ll be time to finish this discussion later. 

Time to apologize, for everything, to fix this mess that’s been stuck between them for too long. 

  
  


\+ 1

“You’re my best friend. I love you, man.” 


End file.
